spaceman – maroon lyrics
[intro:]
[verse 1: sp-ceman]
i’m nasty, sn-tch your cat proceed to hurt you badly
then brashly get attacked by an ashy pack of apaches
catch me applying nicotine patches to my -ss cheeks
actually eating laffy taffy in some snazzy khakis
this that rad rap, spit it while i’m sitting on your dad’s lap
get ransacked, smiphen sh-tting: doot doot brap brap
i’m spitting in your third eye while sipping on a stirred chai
kick and make you nerds cry, i’m sick and i’ve been bird fly
i’m cool as a cuc-mber, you a confused mumbler
making a few numbers while i sit and review tumblr
ba-da-ba-bow
don’t ask me how
i got this fly
just call me sp-ce guy
lurking for some b00bies while you’re chewing on your doobies
snacking on your scoobies while you’re hocking up some loogies
goodness gracious golly, why don’t you go pop some molly
and get rolling like a dolly on the backside of a trolley
[hook: sp-ceman]
johnny f and sp-ceman a formidable crew
acts of violence that you thought you’d only see in cartoons
all we wreak is havoc as we storm through your rooms
like we’re tearing down the streamers and we’re popping balloons
wilding out what we about and what we like to do
red just isn’t dark enough we paint the town maroon (3x)
[verse 2: john f. centipede]
yo, catch us in the buick century, we going postal
rowdy with the locals, going barbary coastal
like its decadent debauchery in gold rush san francisco
but our parties don’t go donner, more like lan with nabisco
no, its crazy how it is, like no filter on your photos
sl!ckly sliding in the whip betwixt two bells like agogo
windows down, they leaning on my shoulders when its colder
cuz the young bruce mccullough win em over with a smolder
i spit what fills the pot where the rainbow stops
i’m steady bumming black and milds off of plainclothes cops
john f. centipede or young wishes-that-he-had-more-black-friends
or lil’ only-exercise-he-gets-is-doing-rap-hands
pull up blasting t swift cuz we trouble trouble trouble
yet we merrier than pranksters that rode with tommy dubya
electric kool-aid molly test, this that hunter thompson-esque
fear and loathing of these boys whose late night larks make mommies stressed
[hook]
[outro: john f. kennedy]
we choose to go to the moon
we choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things
not because they are easy
but because they are hard
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